


Kiss Me, Deadly

by orphan_account



Series: Punk verse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 70s, and Frank's in London with his band, on the London punk scene. At at show, he meets someone who seems slightly out of place, and ends up having a night he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me, Deadly

Frank gave a small smile, running his hands through his orange Mohawk. It had started to fall down around three hours ago, but he didn't care. He knew he looked cool as shit.  
He was eighteen years old and on foreign land. England, he thought, taking a deep breath as he done the clasp on his old, worn guitar case.  
He turned to look at the crowd, still throbbing and pulsating, pogoing on the spot as the speakers blasted some punk band, most likely unknown to his home town of New Jersey.

He quickly made his way out back, throwing his guitar on top of the rest of the equipment in the back of the van, making sure it was locked tight before returning to the small, dirty club.

His mother hadn't been happy when he'd announced he was going to England. She'd cried, in fact, begged him to finish school, told him that punk would be dead by the time 1980 showed up.  
He didn't care though. He was living for now, and now was all that mattered. He'd lifted his savings the second he turned eighteen, and took off with the rest of his band, across the ocean, straight to London.  
He'd been here two months now, and still didn't want to go home. Sure, it sucked sleeping on floors, and doing shitty odd jobs to live, but he loved it all the same.  
It didn't matter what anyone said - the New York scene and CBGBs could _never_ compare to the punk scene he witnessed in the UK. The bands he'd seen play blew his mind.   
Frank just knew that in years to come, these bands would be remembered - especially that weird guy Joe Strum-something, from the band that were on stage right now. Yeah, he couldn't remember his name right now, but in years to come...he knew that guy would be a legend.

He fought his way to the bar, pulling out change from the back pocket of his tartan pants that were held together with so many different colours of thread and safety pins he was pretty sure if his grandmother saw him, she'd take a heart attack.  
As he counted out his change, a voice shouted over the volume.  
"What you having?"  
He looked up, blinking at the source. He was faced with a taller boy, he couldn't have been that much older than Frank himself. His shoulder length black hair was so dirty and messed up he could have given Robert Smith a run for his money.  
Just as Frank was taking in the dirty Blondie shirt the guy was wearing, he spoke again.  
"I said, what are you having?" he yelled, leaning in closer.  
"Uh...just a beer," Frank hollered, leaning in.  
As the stranger leaned over the bar, motioning to the bartender, Frank took a few seconds to take in his own appearance. He was at least a foot shorter than his guy, and he was pretty sure his New York Dolls shirt hadn't been washed since...well, before he'd even came over on the damn boat.

"Here," he stranger smiled, handing him the pint glass.  
"You're American," Frank said, suddenly recognising the accent.  
"Jersey," he smiled again. His teeth were so small, when he smiled, Frank couldn't help but think he looked like a cheery pumpkin. Frank loved pumpkins.  
"No shit!" Frank yelled, swishing some of his beer from his glass as he laughed. "Belleville!"  
"Me too!"  
Frank grinned. "Frank."  
"Gerard," he nodded, offering his hand. "I saw your band here last month...thought I should come check you out again."  
Frank lifted an eyebrow. Gerard paled.  
"The band, I mean!" he quickly followed with.  
Frank smirked. "That's a shame."  
He felt his stomach jump as the taller man blushed, running a hand through his tangled hair and taking a gulp of his beer.  
"So, what you doing in London?" Frank hollered over the opening tones of Janie Jones and kids shouting.  
"Art school," he replied, staring into the glass in his hand.  
Frank grinned. "You're an art fag!"  
Gerard grimaced at the term, before Frank playfully slapped his arm. "I'm only shitting with you man, that's pretty awesome."  
Gerard gave a small smile, before downing the rest of his pint, before glancing at Frank who was still smiling at him.  
"What?"  
Frank shook his head. "Sorry, you just look so out of place here..."  
"So I have to have my head shaved just to listen to the music?"  
He shook his head again. "No, I mean...it's cool, you look...different...it's...cool." He smiled.  
Gerard smiled again, before turning to watch the band on stage. Frank took a few seconds to look him up and down again, before turning to the stage, a small smile on his face.

"That guy," Gerard said, as the band left the stage amidst cries and yells, and possibly some boo-ing. "That guy is going to be remembered one day..."  
"I know, right?!" Frank cried, before signalling to the bartender again.   
"Two pints," he said, tossing some change over the counter.  
Gerard smiled as he accepted the cold glass. He smiled over the froth as he watched the smaller boy down his pint in almost one gulp.  
Yup, he thought, Jersey Boy.  
"You heading home?" Frank asked, cringing at the way he'd somehow managed to put an English twang into his accent.  
Gerard smiled, before looking at the dispersing crowd.   
"I guess..." he trailed off.  
Frank bit his lip, staring at the floor. He couldn't just, you know, ask to go home with this guy. He'd only just met him! Plus, he knew it wasn't the greatest idea in the world, being a punk, being gay, and in _London_ , for Christ's sake.  
"You, uh," Gerard mumbled. "Wanna get the subway with me?"  
Frank looked up, eyes wide.  
"Uh, I mean," Gerard panicked. "Like, if I'm getting this all wrong..." Oh fuck, he panicked.  
"No, I mean, sure...if that's...cool." Frank gave a small smile.   
Gerard took a deep breath, nodding.   
"I'll, uh, just let the guys know...I'm uh...yeah," he gave a shy smile.  
Gerard nodded, lifting the glass to his mouth and nervously downing the last of his cheap beer.

Gerard sat his glass down on the counter, and looked up to see Frank being patted on the back by a skinheaded man in blue tartan pants. He gave a gulp, praying to God that he wasn't setting himself up. This _was_ the seventies, after all, he thought. It wasn't very common to be 'out'. Especially in the punk scene.  
"You ready?" Frank asked as he reached him, pulling on a leather jacket, adorned in studs, paint and zips.  
Gerard nodded, smiling, before leading the way through the dispersing crowds.

As the walked away from the club, Frank looked around them at the crowds, couples walking hand in hand, probably not even knowing each other's names. He gave a sigh, and tucked his hands into his pockets.  
"You want one?" Gerard asked, holding out a packet of smokes. Frank smiled, and took one, before letting Gerard light it for him.  
"So," he asked, taking a drag. "Where do you live?"  
"Just outside Piccadilly...that ok?"  
Frank nodded, ducking his head as they walked towards the tube station.

Inside, there were already fellow punks from the club, sitting on the benches, the floor, some with markers in their hands, writing lyrics and signs of anarchy on the walls.  
They stood against the wall, far away from the crowds.  
Frank looked at Gerard, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall, his hands shaking slightly.  
"Hey, chill," he giggled, patting his shoulder.  
Gerard gave him a weak smile, before setting his eyes on his jacket.  
"Did you do this yourself?" he asked, running a finger along the white and black checks across the cuff.  
Frank nodded, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "It's shit, but it'll do."  
Gerard gave a small laugh. "Nah, they're quite good...I like this one," he prodded the painting of a little bulldog with a Mohawk on the right shoulder.  
Frank watched him as he traced over all the paintings on the sleeves, his eyes full of interest.  
"It's like...tattoos for jackets," the taller boy smiled.  
"Oh, I got plenty of them," Frank laughed.  
Gerard raised his eyebrows. Frank grinned, "I'll show you later."

Gerard nodded, his heart pounding. He hoped to God that he didn't look as nervous as he felt. Ever since he'd seen the small Mohawked boy’s band play the month before, he hadn't been able to get him out of his head. He'd considered asking around about him, but that would have been a bit risky.  
But here he was, taking him back to the flat his grandma was funding just so he could go to the art school he wanted to. He hoped she'd forgive him, if she ever found out.  
"So, why London?" Frank spoke up, taking Gerard from his thoughts.  
He shrugged. "The school is pretty awesome."  
Sure, he could have went to school in Jersey, or even New York, but no, he wanted to come to London. It was the place to be. He'd spent so much time in the New York punk scene, and it was nothing like London. No, London was more _alive_.  
Frank nodded. "Everything is awesome here."  
Gerard smiled. "How long you been here?"  
"Just over two months," he replied, stubbing out the last of his cigarette before dropping it to the floor. "You?"  
"About six months now."  
Frank nodded. "You ever miss home?"  
He shrugged. "I miss some aspects of it, I guess."  
"Yeah...I miss my dog."   
Gerard couldn't help but give a small laugh, before trying to compose himself. "Yeah, I guess I miss my dog too."  
Frank smiled. "I can't believe you're from Belleville, I don't think I've ever seen you around..."

Just as the words escaped Frank's mouth, they heard the sound of the train pulling into the subway station.  
"What age are you, anyway?" Frank asked, as they waited for the doors to open.  
"Uh, twenty-one," Gerard replied nervously.  
"Cool. I wish I was twenty-one."  
"Uh, what age are you?"   
Frank laughed. "Don't worry, I'm legal." He gave a small smirk.  
Gerard bit his lip, a blush climbing onto his cheeks.  
"I was eighteen last October." He smiled, nudging Gerards arm with his elbow as they climbed into the last carriage.  
They took their seats as far back as possible, with only one or two other occupants in the carriage. 

"So, you like it here?" Gerard asked, staring at his hands.  
Frank nodded, bouncing slightly in his seat. "It's fucking awesome...the scene here...it's just so...so..." he searched for a word.  
"Alive?" Gerard asked.  
"Yeah! I mean, sure, New York is ok, but it's nothing compared to this shit! Have you seen The 'Pistols play?"  
Gerard shook his head.  
"NO WAY! The 'Pistols are the fucking greatest, I swear to God...they got this new bassist...he's fucking crazy, I swear to God..." he shook his head smiling.  
Gerard grinned. "I'll have to check them out."  
Frank nodded, and turned to watch out the dark window. He was pretty sure Picadilly was only a few stops away, but he could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time he'd got lost in the city.

As the train stopped at a station, Frank jumped to his feet as a trio of spikey, multi-coloured haired guys and a girl came into the carriage.  
"Frankie!" the chorused, the girl pulling him into a hug.  
Gerard felt a slight stir in his stomach as the green haired girl with the nose ring pressed a kiss to his cheek.  
"What the fuck you doing here?" she asked, still holding onto his hand as the three men sat down opposite Gerard, nodding in hello.  
Frank cocked his head in Gerard's direction, causing him to blush and duck his head.  
"Oooh, you naughty boy you!" She giggled, stroking his cheek.  
"Sheila, this is Gerard," Frank smiled, pulling her down to sit with them.  
"Hi!" She said gleefully, her English accent rough.  
"Hey," Gerard lifted his hand in a weak wave.  
"Ooh, he's American Frankie!"   
"So am I!" Frank laughed.  
She patted his arm, before shouting something crude across the carriageway to the men she'd entered with.  
Frank turned to look at Gerard, who was sitting with his head down, nervously toying with the leather cuff around his wrist.

"You ok?" He asked, placing a hand on his thigh.   
Gerard looked down at his hand, then up at his face, nodding. Frank gave a cheeky smile, before turning to Sheila, launching into a tale of the night's show she'd missed.

Gerard bit his lip, looking at Frank's hand, still resting on his thigh. He tried to think of everything possible other than that hand, resting there.  
As it turned out, he didn't need to think long, as the train stopped at another station, three skinheads climbing on board.  
He felt his heart drop as his eyes feel on the swastikas painted onto the Doc Marten boots, the Nazi eagle on one of their shirts staring out at him.

"Well lookie here," one of them spoke, eyeing the punks. "A couple of poofs and their faghag."

Gerard felt like he'd become deaf as there was a sudden blur of movement around him.  
Frank was on his feet, holding Sheila back as she screamed something in the direction of the skinheads, and her three companions were on their feet.  
He had to do a double take as he saw something glint in his the corner of his eye, turning to see one of the spiky haired punks flashing a switchblade.

Oh shit, he thought, his heart beating. He jumped to his feet, unsure what to do. He watched as Frank wrestled Shelia back, as the punks and the skinheads began to throw punches.  
"Hold her!" Frank turned and yelled at Gerard, pushing the screaming green haired female into his arms.  
Gerard nodded, wrapping his arms around her and back up towards the end of the carriage.  
He felt his heart drop as Frank threw himself into the fight, landing a punch to the ribcage of the skin who'd made the comment.

Gerard struggled to hold Shelia as she squirmed, swearing and screaming in the direction of fight.  
He tightened his grip, unable to take his eyes off Frank as he ducked and dived, kicking with his battered Doc Marten, _with a fucking smile on his face_.   
Why the Hell is he smiling? Gerard thought, before feeling his heart jump into his throat as he watched Frank being pushed up against the wall of the carriage by the skinhead, who was at least a foot taller than him.  
Frank was grinning and laughed, blood trickling down from his split eyebrow, his bottom lip cut.  
"Fuckin' hate fags!" the skinhead spat at him.  
Frank laughed in his face. "That's not what your daddy was screaming last night!"

Gerard felt like the world was freezing around him as he watched the skin lift a switchblade to Franks throat, slowly digging it in.

He moved as fast as he could, dropping Sheila from his hold, and running, full force, tackling the skin away from Frank.

Frank fell down to the floor, clutching his neck, hissing, as Gerard pulled himself ontop of the guy, throwing punches at his face.  
The train started slowing to a stop, and Gerard felt someone grabbing at him, and turned to see Sheila pulling him by the shoulders.  
"You gotta get off here!" She yelled, pulling him backwards towards where Frank was sliding up the wall, still holding his neck.  
"You ok Frankie?" Sheila cried, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the door.   
He nodded, and looked at Gerard, his face pale.  
"Piccadilly!" She yelled as the doors opened, and pushed both boys out. "Go, it's ok, we'll take care of this!"  
Frank gave a small roughened laugh as he watched her turn, swinging her leg out to land a kick into the side of the man on the floor.  
He turned to Gerard, and took his hand, laughing, before pulling him into a run, one hand still pushed at his neck.

They ran for a minute or so, up and out of the subway station, before Gerard tugged him in the direction of his block of flats.  
As they began to near the familiar view of the flats Gerard lived in, he found himself pushing Frank backwards into the alleyway by the garages, pushing the smaller boy up against the wall.  
"Are you ok?" he panted, placing his hands on each side of Frank's body.  
Frank smiled, and nodded, pulling his hand away from his neck. "s'just a scratch," he laughed.  
Gerard eyed the small cut, barely more than a centimetre, but still bleeding. 

Without realising what he was doing, he leaned in, running his tongue up from Frank's collarbone to his jawline, tasting the blood and sweat.  
"Aw God," Frank moaned, his hands shooting out to grab onto Gerard's hips, pulling him in closer. He gripped onto his belt, pulling his hips closer to his own, as Gerard sucked on the cut on his neck.  
"You're a fucking vampire..." he muttered, throwing his head back against the wall.  
Gerard gave a small startle, realising what he was doing, pulling back, staring at Frank with wide eyes.  
"Shit! Sorry..." he muttered, running his hands into his hair.  
"What? Why...why'dyou stop?" Frank panted, looking at him in amazement.  
Gerard bit his lip, turning his head slightly to look at the flats.  
"You live here?" Frank asked, his breath still shaky, nodding his head in the direction of the block.  
Gerard nodded, staring at him.  
"Ok...ok...let's go!" He leapt forward, grabbing Gerard's hand, dragging him in the direction of the flats.

It took a few minutes of Gerard fumbling with his keys, and them running up six flights of stairs, but as soon as they reached Gerard's floor, Frank pushed him up against the door, sucking on his neck.  
Gerard was slightly amused, between his racing heart and attempt to not get too hard too fast, that he hadn't even kissed Frank yet, but they'd already been making meals of each other's necks.  
"My...room mate..." Gerard breathed, sinking his hands into Frank's broken Mohawk. "He's probably...asleep..."  
Frank grinned against his neck. "Well, you'll just have to try and stay quiet, won't you?"   
Gerard let out a moan as he felt Frank's hand snake down to his groin, palming him through his pants.  
He softly pushed the smaller boy off him as he fumbled with his keys once more, trying to get into the flat as quietly as possibly.

As it turned out, his flat mate was awake when they got inside. Gerard motioned for Frank to follow him as he made his way into the flat, towards the living room.

As Frank followed, he let his eyes fall over the walls and furniture of the small flat. Sure, it was small, but it was so much better to what he was accustomed to. Definitely much better than the hard floors and sofas he was crashing on whenever he couldn't stay at his aunts in Whitechapel.  
He noticed a large blonde guy laying across a sofa as he reached the living room, TV up full, empty cans of beer strewn across the floor and coffee table in front of him.

"You're still up?" Gerard asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket, throwing it along with his keys onto the coffee table.  
The mountain of a man looked up, nodding, before settling his eyes on Frank, his eyebrows lifting.  
Frank shifted from foot to foot, suddenly remembering his face was bloody and his neck was now bruising up nicely.  
Gerard turned to look at him, a small smile on his face, before turning back to his room mate.  
"Bob, this is Frank, from-"  
"That band you won't shut up about," Bob finished for him, waving a hand in the air.  
Frank looked up at him smirking at the nice shade of pink Gerard's face was turning.  
"Nice to meet you, man," Bob gave him a thumbs up. "Just try and keep it down, yeah?"  
Frank smiled and nodded, before making a face at Gerard.  
"Uh, yeah...uh, right," Gerard said, yet again running a hand through his hair, and walking in the direction of a door down the hallway.  
Frank gave Bob a small wave before following him.

Gerard closed the door behind him as he entered the small bedroom. He looked around as he shrugged his jacket off, taking in the flyers and posters taped onto the walls, the dirty clothes spread around the floor.  
"Uh, yeah..." Gerard muttered, kicked some clothes back under the double bed.  
"Dude, this place is awesome," Frank smiled, throwing his jacket over a chair by a small, rickety desk.  
Gerard smiled. "My grandma pays for it," he said sheepishly. Why was he telling him this?  
"That's pretty cool...my mom hates me being over here...she's hoping that by not giving me anything, I'll come home sooner." Frank shrugged.  
Gerard nodded. 

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Gerard staring at the floor, Frank watching him.  
As Frank opened his mouth to speak, Gerard got there before him.  
"I've never done this before," he blurted out.  
"Huh?" Frank cocked an eyebrow.  
"I mean...I've done this...I just..." he screwed up his eyes, shaking his head, his hair moving like a living thing.  
"Gerard...?" Frank smiled, stepping forward.  
"I've never...like, picked someone up...brought them home..." Gerard breathed as Frank stepped up in front of him.  
"Really?" Frank asked, placing his hands on Gerard's hips.  
He shook his head.  
"Why me then?" Frank asked, pressing small kisses on his throat.  
"What?" his voice was shaking.  
"Why did you ask me?" Frank bit softly at the skin above his collarbone.  
"You're...I don't...I just...wanted you..." he couldn't string his words together properly now and he felt Frank's tongue slid against his skin.  
"You wanted me? Why?"  
Gerard looked down at Frank, his eyes shining mischievously.  
"The way you play," Gerard breathed, running a hand over the shaved sides of Frank's head. "You're a fucking animal...you're like a work of fucking art..."  
Frank grinned, standing on his tiptoes and pushing his lips against Gerard's with a hunger that surprised Gerard.

He dragged Gerard towards the bed, pulling him down on top of him. He kicked at his Doc Martens, thankful he never laced them up properly as the flew off and into the corner of the room.  
Frank began to grind his hips upwards, pulling at Gerard's shirt, tugging until it was over his head and in a heap on the floor, before pulling him down to kiss him again.  
"Fuck," Gerard breathed against his lips, reaching down and grasping at...safety pins.  
"Ow!" He yelled, pulling his hand back and sitting up at the bottom of the bed, fingers pressed into his mouth.  
"Shit! Sorry," Frank said, sitting up, panting. "Forgot about those."  
Gerard shook his head and waved at him. Frank took that as a sign to lose his pants.

As he scrambled with the pins and zips, Gerard pulled at his own pants, suddenly aware he wasn't wearing anything underneath.  
But then again, neither was Frank, he noticed when he looked up.  
Frank grinned and pulled his shirt over his head, before reaching over and dragging Gerard on top of him once more.  
As the rubbed against each other, hands grasping and sliding off sweaty skin, Gerard felt he wasn't going to last very long at this rate.  
"Fuck me," Frank suddenly gasped in his ear.   
"What?" Gerard breathed, leaning up and staring down at him.  
"Just...fuck me...please..."  
Gerard bit his lip. "Are you sure...I mean...you can...do me..."  
Frank shook his head. "I want you to," he grinned, pulling him back down to kiss roughly.  
Gerard smiled into the kiss, before pulling off and leaning over to the small cabinet by his bed, reaching into the drawer, pulling out a roll of condoms and a small tube.  
"Where did you get that?" Frank asked, leaning up on his elbows.  
"What, this?" he shook the tube.  
Frank nodded.  
"Sex."   
Frank's eyes widened. "Malcolm MacLaren’s store?"  
Gerard grinned, nodding. "Not just a clothes store..."  
Frank bit his lip as he watched Gerard rip open one of the condom packets and roll it onto his solid cock, giving a slight moan as he done so. Frank moved to turn onto his back, but stopped as he felt Gerard touch his bare thigh.  
"What are you doing?" Gerard asked.  
"Uh, turning over for you?"  
Gerard shook his head. "I want to look at you." He gave a small blush.  
"But..." Frank looked confused. He'd never done it _that_ way before. Any other guy he'd been with had always just taken him from behind.  
Gerard leaned forward, pressing his lips against his, pushing him back down against the pillows, pulling one away, and fixing it under Frank's hips.  
Frank felt his heart beating faster, trying to focus on the kiss as he heard the tube of lubricant click open and closed, then felt cold, wet fingers pressing down under his legs, at his small entrance.  
"If you want me to stop," Gerard breathed against his mouth. "Just say, and I'll stop."  
Frank responded by biting the older mans lip, almost drawing blood.  
Gerard groaned, accidentally forcing a finger in a little too fast, making Frank buck and hiss.  
"Shit, sorry!"  
Frank shook his head, and grabbed roughly at Gerard's hair, kissing his, clashing thier teeth together, licking at his lips.  
Gerard was moving his finger inside, then slipping another in to join it, curling inside him slightly.

Frank hissed, and blinked at the pain, but also noted it was nowhere near as bad as what he'd previously experienced. He'd never known anyone to take as much care as this with him. Ever.  
"I'm gonna...one more..." Gerard was panting, pulling his fingers out, then pressing three inside, slowly, with some difficulty.  
Frank let out a small yelp, but pushed himself down against Gerard's fingers, screwing his eyes shut.  
"Frankie..." Gerard licked at his lips. "You ok?"  
Frank nodded. "Just...fuck me...please..."  
Gerard grinned and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

He sat up between Franks legs, popping open the tub against and smoothing some lube along his throbbing cock.  
He tossed the tube onto the floor, before he ran a hand over Frank's tattooed stomach.  
"A work of fucking art..." he muttered, tracing his hand down his stomach to his crotch and up the length of Franks dick, causing the smaller man to moan and buck his hips.  
"Gerard..." he whined.  
Gerard smirked, before moving to line himself up with Frank's small entrance. He leaned down pressing a kiss against his forehead once more, before gently pushing himself, slowly, inside.  
Frank hissed again, and thrashed his head softly against the pillow.  
"Just do it," he almost yelled, annoyed at the slowness of Gerard's entrance.  
Gerard looked down at him, raising his eyebrows before nodded, and quickly pushing himself in as deep as he could, groaning at the tightness engulfing him.  
He placed his hands on either side of Frank's head, watching him for a few seconds, before Frank pulled his head down to kiss him.  
Gerard began to move, in and out, slowly at first, small moans erupting from his mouth.  
"Oh fuck...you're so...tight...fuck.."   
Frank hissed and grinned. "You bet I am..." he moved slowly, trying to match Gerard's rhythm.  
Gerard opened his mouth, licking at the dry blood on Franks face.  
"Fucking...vampire..." Frank panted as Gerard picked up speed.  
"You...like that?"  
Frank groaned, throwing his head back, as Gerard made his way down to his throat, sucking on the small gash beside his Adam's Apple.

The continued as so for a few minutes, before Frank suddenly bucked his hips, letting out a small cry.   
"Fuck!" He panted. "Do...do that again!"  
Gerard grinned, and started slamming into him with more force, reaching a hand down between them to grasp Frank's cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts.  
"Fuck...fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck..." Frank chanted.  
"Yeah...you like that?" Gerard said in a mischievous voice.  
"Fuck yeah..."  
Gerard knelt up slightly, balancing on his knees and one hand, thrusting and working Frank in his hand, speeding up.

Frank gave a cry as he came in small spurts, over Gerard's hand and his own chest. It was too much for Gerard, who came seconds later, still thrusting out his orgasm inside Frank before falling on top of him.

They lay for a minute, panting against each other, before Gerard pulled out and rolled off, slipping the condom off, tying it in a knot and throwing it to the floor.  
Their breathing slowed after a few minutes, before Frank turned to look at Gerard, who was staring at the ceiling.  
"That...was awesome." He gave a small smile.  
Gerard nodded, closing his eyes.  
Frank bit his lip, turning his gaze to the ceiling.  
"You...you want me to leave?" he asked in a small voice.  
Gerard head shot to look at him.  
"What? No...unless...you want to leave..."  
Frank turned to meet his eyes, smiling. "I really don't want to leave."  
Gerard reached a hand down between them, clasping Franks hand.  
He pulled Frank a little closer, so the smaller man was resting against his chest.

"I wish..." Frank yawned. "I wish you'd spoke to me...the first time you came to see me play..."  
Gerard nodded, pressing a small kiss against his ruined Mohawk.  
"You wanna get cleaned up?" Gerard asked, as he noticed they were slightly sticking to one another.  
Frank shook his head with another yawn. "Don't need to clean...I'm punk."

\---

Frank woke up in the morning, giving a small stretch before being aware he was naked and still had his own come on his chest. He gave a small groan before realising he was alone in bed.  
He quickly sat up, his heart racing before he noticed Gerard sitting on the floor by the bed, Frank's leather jacket in his hands.  
"Hey," Frank said in an awkward tone. He wasn't used to spending the night after going home with someone.  
Gerard turned, a smile on his face, before he stood up, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.  
"Morning," he smiled, pressing a kiss to Franks cheek.  
Frank felt a flutter in his stomach. No, he wasn't used to this at all. He...he quite liked it, he thought.  
"What...what're you doing?" he asked, eyeing his jacket.  
Gerard held a sleeve out, blowing on it.   
Frank noticed a smiling Jack-o-Lantern smiling up at him, the paint still wet and sparkling.  
"Woah...that's...that's awesome..."  
Gerard grinned widely. "I noticed the pumpkin on your back..."  
Frank nodded. "My birthday...it's Halloween..."  
"Now THAT is awesome."  
Frank smiled, setting the jacket down next to him.  
"So..." he said. He _really_ was not used to the morning after thing.  
"You uh, wanna hang around?" Gerard asked, biting the inside of his cheek. "Bob's at work...I could like, cook...or something..."  
Frank smiled, the fluttering returning to his stomach. "Yeah. I'd like that."  
Gerard smiled, and kissed him again, before getting to his feet.  
"Uh, you want a bath or something?" He motioned to Frank's chest.  
Frank stood up, rubbing at himself, and shook his head.   
Gerard grinned. "You're my dirty little punk."


End file.
